


Rejoin

by dylovan



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylovan/pseuds/dylovan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, guys, uh, where'd Skwisgaar go? He didn't even get to his solo." "I dunno, dood. Prob'ly off with some chick."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rejoin

Charles Foster Offdensen was interrupted from filing tax forms by a knock on his office door. 

He didn't bother looking up. "Who is it?" he asked a Klokateer, number 574. 

"...Skwisgaar Skwigelf, sir."

Charles looked up now, evening light glinting through the Venetian blinds off his glasses and obscuring his hazel eyes. "Oh, show him in. And we'll need some privacy, there are important things that need discussing."

"Yes, sir."

The Klokateer left as the lead guitarist entered, and closed the door. Charles moved the papers aside and stood up expectantly, straightening the cuffs of his shirt as he walked over toward Skwisgaar. 

The Swede looked bored. He ran his hands through his hair and examined his nails critically. "So...what ams goin' on, Off—"

He was cut off by Charles kissing him. He closed his eyes and brought his hands up to rest on Charles' waist, then crawl up to play with his hair and clutch the lapels of his suit jacket. He felt Charles gasp into his mouth and smiled into the kiss. 

Charles drew back and stared at Skwisgaar, panting. His hair was already ruffled by Skwisgaar's hands, and his glasses were fogging up. He grabbed the guitarist's shoulder and pulled him closer, then leaned on the desk and nudged Skwisgaar down. 

Skwisgaar obediently kneeled. He traced the V of Charles' hips through his white shirt, making him arch his back with premature pleasure. "What, no pleasantsries?"

Charles bit his lip as he felt the taller man's agile fingers sliding down the front of his trousers, playing with the zipper of his fly. "You know we don't have time for that. You're supposed to be recording that solo right now." And they both knew the unspoken rule was that they spent as little time on the romantic shit and as much time satisfying certain needs as possible, which was how they both liked it. 

"Uh, touché." 

Charles felt Skwisgaar undoing his belt, unzipping his fly, sliding his member out...He'd already been partially hard at Skwisgaar's hands, but now he felt himself giving up to the other man's ministrations. He threaded one hand through Skwisgaar's blond waves and his eyes fell closed as the other man's plush lips parted for his cock. 

"Fuck," he murmured. His free hand grasped pointlessly at the desk's surface for a hold. He leaned back. 

Skwisgaar lapped all the way up the other man's shaft, across the head. He snuck something out of his pocket, a little plastic bottle, and emptied the contents into his hand. "So," he said, "all dis finances stuff got you under a lots of stress, ja?" There had to be some reason Charles had texted him to come up here. It didn't just go on all the time, although it had been happening rather more frequently lately. 

Charles shrugged. "Mmph. Oh, fuck, right _there_..."

The guitarist closed his eyes. His tongue swirled wetly around the tip of Charles' cock. His right hand, now dripping with lube, came up and closed around the rest of him that he couldn't quite fit in his mouth. 

The rest of the members of Dethklok probably didn't think Charles had any sex life at all. If pressed, they would probably guess that he'd do it with a woman, in the missionary position, under the covers, with the lights turned off. He seemed aggressively asexual. 

They certainly wouldn't think that he'd be fucking their lead guitarist in the same house where they were currently recording their new album. 

Charles pulled Skwisgaar's hair, forcing him to gag over his cock. Charles didn't look like a man who'd be particularly loud in bed, either, but right now he was making an array of delicious little noises that made Skwisgaar desperate to hear more. It was probably the Swede's second favorite sound in the whole world, right under his own guitar. 

Right now, Charles was moaning "Please, please..." while his hand played with Skwisgaar's hair and about his throat. Out of all the harem of sluts that followed Skwisgaar around, there were none who responded quite as enthusiastically to Skwisgaar's attention as Charles. And there were none who'd be able to take care of him in quite the way their manager did. 

He could taste the precum already dripping down the hard flesh; he kissed trails up Charles' cock and licked it up. He took a break and looked at what he'd already done to the older man while fondling him, touching him to force pleasure in every way he knew how. Charles' face was flushed and he'd taken his glasses off. He gasped out every time Skwisgaar swiped his fingers across his slit, and his legs were trembling in that particularly adorable way they always did. He was helpless at Skwisgaar's hands. 

Encouraged by this thought, the guitarist bent down again to pay more attention to Charles' cock. He felt it tremble under his tongue as he licked down every ridge, up every inch of smooth velvety hardness. He could feel himself getting harder, too, and slipped one hand down between them to take care of himself.

"No." Charles yanked on his hair. "Don't touch yourself."

Skwisgaar whined around the other man's cock, and instead brought his hand back up to start fumbling with the buttons of Charles' shirt. 

In a few minutes Charles was moaning and gasping desperately. Skwisgaar could feel that he was about to cum in his mouth...they couldn't have that. With a final kiss he stood back up. 

Charles opened his eyes and glared up at Skwisgaar. "What—"

"You got to lasts long enough to fuck me, you know."

The vulgar words in that soft purr drove Charles wild. He kissed the younger man again, biting his lip until he tasted blood, and felt his naked erection brush against the other's covered one. 

Skwisgaar pulled the tie off Offdensen, then the jacket, then the shirt, then the undershirt. They all went flying over to the other side of the room, except the tie, which Skwisgaar draped around his own neck. Skwisgaar ran his fingers down Charles' lightly furred chest and watched as he leaned into the warm touch, then kissed down his neck, then bit hard enough to bruise. Charles hissed out a series of expletives and let his head fall back to allow greater access to his neck. 

Somehow they switched places, and Skwisgaar was now pinned to the desk, at Charles' mercy. He moved up to sit atop the desk, struggled out of the black jeans and his boxers, and wrapped his legs around Offdensen's slim waist, rubbing the heel of his foot against the small of the other's back. Charles took the sight in, then grabbed the other man's thigh, feeling wiry muscle contract beneath his grip, and hitched his leg up higher to bare him completely. 

"I'm ready now," Skwisgaar murmured. "Do it."

"You're bossy today."

"Ja, tells me somesthing I don't know," Skwisgaar said. 

Charles rolled his eyes. He steadied himself against the desk and slowly pushed all the way into the guitarist. They both tensed, one in pleasure, the other in pain. Charles' eyes crossed. "Shit..."

Skwisgaar squirmed to try and alleviate the uncomfortableness. No matter how many times you'd done this, no matter how much you attempted to prepare yourself in the bathroom beforehand, it always seemed to hurt at first. He gritted his teeth. "C'mon, I'm not gettings any younger over heres, you know."

"I think you're forgetting who you're talking to." A sadistic grin crossed Charles' face. He pulled out, causing the guitarist to gasp at the sudden emptiness, then thrust back in. Skwisgaar made a high whining sound. Charles brushed the hair out of his face, making him look up into his eyes. 

"Charles," Skwisgaar whimpered. 

"What is it, slut?"

The guitarist gasped. "Charles...keeps going."

As he got used to the invasion Skwisgaar began feeling sudden electric jolts of pleasure. He tried to reciprocate Charles' movements a bit, but the CFO pinned him down to the desk. "No, don't move...you're so tight."

"Fuck," Skwisgaar gasped. 

The older man bent down, biting at his neck as he fucked him. "You know...I always did go for the dumb blond slutty ones," he said. 

"Mm. Charles, I ams not a slut."

"Yeah? Then why d'you moan like—this?"

He drove hard into the guitarist, shoving him roughly into the desk, making his shoulder blades ache. Skwisgaar opened his mouth and moaned loudly. "Ohh, fuck!...Yeah. I guess you're rights."

"I'm always right. You should know that by now." Charles took hold of the tie that was around Skwisgaar's neck and tugged it gently, experimentally. Skwisgaar blushed even more, if that was possible. "Does that feel good?"

"Reallies good. Fuck, you ams too big, Charles, it hurts..."

"Good." Charles yanked harder on the tie as he fucked him, cutting off most of his air. He reached between them and started jacking the other man off, adding another layer of rough pleasure. 

" _Hårdare, Charles, fan mig hårdare..._ " Charles had no idea what the Swedish spouting from the blond's lips meant, but more importantly it was hot as hell. His breath caught in his throat; he was so tense, so close to the edge he could practically taste it. He knew Skwisgaar was, too. " _Ja, ja, rätt där! Fan, ja..._ " Yeah, it wasn't too hard to get the point. 

Charles gasped. The younger man was so tight, his body felt so good underneath him. Should he ask...yeah, he thought he could probably dispose of his shyness at this point. "Remember what I told you to call me?"

Skwisgaar bit his lip and looked up into Charles' eyes. "Fucks me harder, Daddy, please."

"Fuck—" His hips slammed into the other man's. Skwisgaar recoiled with pleasure. "Feel what you do to me?"

The speed of his hand around Skwisgaar's cock heightened; he let the necktie fall to the floor and wrapped his other hand around the guitarist's neck. He got a rush from feeling the pulse quicken against his fingertips, from hearing Skwisgaar forced to gasp for breath. 

"I—I'm—fuck." Skwisgaar couldn't find any words, but that didn't matter. He cried out as he came over the other man's hand. 

Charles lost his rhythm completely as he felt him come. His hands clutched at Skwisgaar's beautiful blond hair, his cock throbbed inside him. 

"You know, somesone could comes in at any second now," Skwisgaar panted, eyeing Charles. "What if dey caught you fuckings me right on your desk? You'ds be in so much shit, Daddy."

Fuck...somehow Skwisgaar seemed to have all his kinks down on a list somewhere, or something. It was like he could read his mind. He felt himself lose control. He came inside Skwisgaar, moaning out his name as he released. 

They were still for a moment, both of them panting, and bodies slick with sweat. Then Charles pulled out, stumbled a bit, and went to find his clothes. 

Skwisgaar rolled over on the desk. He found his phone and looked at himself with the front camera. "Ugh, Charles, you got bruises all over my neck! And you...you wipeds your fuckings cum all over my hair, you stupid dildo! How am I supposeds to explain dis shit?"

"Just go take a shower." Charles buttoned his shirt up. He was still panting. "And get off my desk, please, you're...dripping."

Skwisgaar didn't move for a moment. Then he flopped off the desk onto the floor and pulled his pants back up, bitching and complaining, shameless. 

He eventually looked up at Charles, who was collapsed on his chair, attempting to fix his hair and his crumpled shirt collar. 

"So..." Skwisgaar began. "About de fundings for my solos project, again?..."

Wordlessly, Charles flung his checkbook at the guitarist. Skwisgaar laughed out loud.


End file.
